


Human Pressure

by orphan_account



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Batman - Fandom, DC Comics, DCU (Comics), Nightwing (Comics), Nightwing (Web Series), Nightwing - Fandom
Genre: Batman - Freeform, Blüdhaven, DCEU - Freeform, F/M, Nightwing - Freeform, Original Female Character - Freeform, comic books, dcu - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-10
Updated: 2018-11-14
Packaged: 2019-08-21 19:38:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16582784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Just a short story of you and Nightwing/Dick Grayson and discovering each other.





	1. Chapter 1

It’s raining. It’s raining so heavily you can’t see anything. You sighed, walking away from the window and stare at your office. It seems like everyone had already gone home, since the lights are all turned off except for yours. Though this is a sight that you are used to. Sometimes you even think to just give up your apartment and live here. It sure as hell would make things so much easier, especially when it rains this hard. 

Out of all days, why had you not brought your umbrella? Dammit. Your parents are right, you should’ve gotten a car. But still, the thought of driving in this heavy rain with the occasional thunderstrike and the never-ending traffic would be more brutal. 

You walk back to your desk only to drop back on your chair. The chair that you had been too familiar with and you wish that you had not been. 

With your elbow resting on its armrest, your head lean on your hand, trying to ease the migraine away. Was all those years spent suffering all those sleepless nights in law school worth it? The constant image of yourself working in a sophisticated office wearing an expensive suit, driving a sports car to work from your luxury apartment, happy. It was all a lie. This was the reality. The constant exhaustion, the familiar late-nights and the saddest part? Being stuck here with no one to call. 

Suddenly, you hear a crash. You look up immediately, looking around but had found nothing. It must be from the window outside, somewhere near the reception and the elevators. Knowing the dangers of Gotham city, you pick up hole puncher from your table before slowly stalking out of your office. 

Where are the security guards? Shouldn’t they be rushing in if there was a sudden intrusion? Maybe the elevator’s broken? Maybe they’re on their way? Maybe it’s nothing but a figment of your imagination?

Another, louder crash and you jump. You could feel your hand that is holding onto the puncher is shaking. Not just from the fear, but also the adrenaline. Your heart is hammering at your chest, anxiety taking over your mind. ‘My life would seem too pitiful if I die.’, you thought, before actually reaching the reception area near the elevators and nearly drop to your knees and bolt at the sight. 

It was none other than Nightwing himself, lying facedown on the ground with shards of broken glass all around him. The whole window is broken, and he looks like he’s bleeding from head to toe, with scratches all over his suit. Was he wrestling with a cheetah or something? What is going on? 

You drop your hole puncher on the ground, inspecting the scene, shutting off your emotions like you always have. Still aware of the broken glass around you, you carefully walk closer, seeing his hand still clutching at a stick, while the other is hidden under him. His blood is flowing out of him, slowly with a mixture of the rain that had fallen on him, creating a little pool. 

He whimpered, then groaned, causing you to move back a step, unsure as to what you should do. It seems like he is somehow still conscious. How? You had no idea. But one thing for sure, you need to call the ambulance. Now. 

“Wait, wait.” he called out before you could race back to your office, as if he could read your mind before even taking a look at your face. 

You look at him, waiting, as he forced himself to hold himself up with the arm that was holding his stick. You wanted to help him, you do, but for some reason you can’t seem to bring yourself to move. Somehow entranced at the injured vigilante before you. 

“Don’t call the ambulance. Don’t call the police, they’re already on their way.”

“You’re injured.” you managed to point out, out of all the smarter things you could’ve said. 

“Yes, but don’t worry about it. I’m used to bleeding my guts out like this.”

“What do you need me to do?”

“Do you have any bandages? Any first-aid kit? That would help a lot.”

Personally, you didn’t think a first-aid kit would help much, considering how much he is bleeding, but you ran for it anyway. You arrive back at your office, pulling back the bottom drawer in your desk for it to reveal a small first-aid kit you had prepared for yourself. ‘Apparently there’s a benefit to be clumsy, as well.’, you thought, before hurrying back to the wounded vigilante. 

You move carefully through the broken pieces of glass on the floor, stopping once you are standing above him. He looks paler than before, his gaze at you seems to grow weaker and weaker by the second. He’s trying as hard as he can to stay conscious, most probably still not trusting you. 

You swipe the glass pieces away with your shoe, before settling on the floor and open the first-aid kit. He stares at you as if you had grown another head, telling you, “I can do it on my own.”

“You look like you’re about to faint. I can’t have you suddenly dropping unconscious while stitching yourself.” you claimed, also you didn’t want him to die like this when you could’ve helped him. 

“Fine, after what I’ve been through, you seemed harmless.” he rasped out.

“Umm, thanks.” you replied, opening the bottle of alcohol like a skilled nurse. 

He forced himself to turn again, letting his head fall on your lap as his body stretches out next to you. Thankfully, there are no bones sticking out. ‘Just a typical knife plunged into the middle of his ribs’, you assured yourself, even though you feel like fainting yourself. 

“Where is the police anyway? And the guards? Shouldn’t they be here by now?” you asked, you didn’t want him to die by bleeding out on the ground like this, and you also didn’t want him to die by your crappy stitching skills. Especially when you’re still deciding whether or not you should use a cotton ball or just dump most of the alcohol content on his wound like how you see in films. 

“Probably traffic.” he replied, and you’re not sure if he was actually joking or not. Judging by the awful weather outside, it wouldn’t surprise you if they are actually stuck in traffic.

“This is going to burn.” you warned, causing him to spot your hand already starting to tip the bottle. 

“I know, but shouldn’t you pull the knife out first?”

You place the bottle back on the floor, “Wouldn’t you bleed to death? Shouldn’t I pour the alcohol, apply pressure until you stop bleeding before putting on the bandage?”

“How are you going to wrap a bandage over the knife?”

“Let me do the work. I’ve taken enough first-aid classes to be a nurse.” you lied. Partly-lied. You did took the first-aid classes under direct orders from your parents due to your clumsy ass, but not enough to be considered a nurse.

“Hopefully Batman is coming soon, I could sleep for a hundred years.” he said, changing the subject to prevent any arguments between you both, especially since you are now holding the power over him. Smart. In another life, he could’ve been a mediator. 

“You’re lucky you have someone to actually make sure you have enough sleep.” you muttered, pouring nearly half the contents of the alcohol into his wound, causing him to groan and grit his teeth to keep him from screaming. Shit. You’ve forgotten to warn him. 

“I’m sorry, I forgot to say something-”

“It’s fine, I prefer it that way.” he rasped out, his chest heaving, as if he is trying to breathe. 

With surprisingly steady hands, you take off your black blazer and press it on his wound, careful not to drive the knife deeper. He gritted his teeth, his hand clutching your knee, holding onto you to stay conscious. 

“Shit, when will they come?” you wondered out loud, staring at the rain that is starting to die down a little, but still keeping the pressure on the wound. 

“My thoughts exactly.”

“Have you actually called them? I think I should call the ambulance. The police-”

“I don’t think I could hold it any longer.” he said, his eyelids drooping. 

Panic started to rise in you, causing you to slap him across the face so hard his eyes shot wide open. All this while still keeping the pressure on his wound, of course. 

“What the-”

“Don’t you go out on me. I can’t have you dying like this.”

“Don’t worry, you’re not going to be the one in jail for murder.”

“I might as well have if I’m unable to help Gotham’s beloved vigilante stay alive for a few minutes while help is on the way. If they’re on the way at all.”

“Your skepticism is starting to affect me too. Usually it wouldn’t take them this long, by the way. It’s getting embarrassing.”

Before you could say anything, a strong gust of wind blows through the big hole that used to be a glass window. You duck your head against his chest, feeling your hair brushing his chest, a mixture of his blood and rain staining it. 

The wind seems to fade away, followed by a loud thud. You look up to find Batman himself standing there, watching you with narrowed eyes, then to the guy that took up his place on your lap. Shock and embarrassment rises within you, making you feel as if your parents had caught you in bed with a man. If Nightwing wasn’t wounded, you’d most probably push him away. Hell, you wouldn’t end up here in the first place. 

“Thank you for taking care of him.” Batman said, crouching across from you to drape Nightwing’s arm across his shoulder. 

It seems like Nightwing is starting to drift off again, so you slap him once more, forgetting for a second that Batman’s there. He’d understand. You couldn’t remember much from that first-aid class, but through the films you watched, you know that it’s best a bleeding person does not drift off of consciousness. 

You could sense Batman’s eyes widening a little at your action. But you pretend as if you didn’t notice as you watch Nightwing revealing his blue orbs once more. “Do I look like a doll to you that you could slap every once in awhile?”

You were about to answer when Batman interfere, “I’ll take over from here. It’s best if you don’t tell anyone about this.” 

“What about the broken window, the CCTV footage…”

“Don’t worry about it. Everything is handled. It’s best if you get home now and forget about it. Go back to work tomorrow like nothing happened.”

“Umm..okay.” you replied softly, seeing Batman holding Nightwing carefully towards the jet. Batman is still applying pressure to Nightwing’s wound through your blazer, as they make their way into the entrance of the jet that is waiting for them in the air. 

A few moments later, the door closed and they were gone. And just like that, you are back to living your life. Your reality in this ugly world.


	2. Chapter 2

A week had gone by so fast you had not even realised it. The day after the incident, you called in sick and didn’t go to work after making home some time before sunrise. Besides, your head is still aching trying to process it all. Out of all places, the fact that he dived in straight into your office when you’re the only one left there...a hopeless romantic would say it’s fate. 

But it is not some romantic comedy. ‘This is real life’, you reminded yourself, typing on your computer as if your life depended on it. 

Suddenly, an email popped up on your screen. You click on it on impulse, only for it to reveal an online invitation from your boss to the 25th anniversary charity gala this weekend. You stare at it, wondering if it was some hoax, whether he had accidentally sent it to you. But by reading the address of the sender and the receiver, it was, in fact addressed to your whole team. 

“Did you get this?” a text from your best friend, Annie, popped up on your phone.

You press it open, finding a screenshot of the invitation email that you received a few seconds ago. Annie had been a part of the team at the same time as you did so it’s no wonder that she got it as well. 

You didn’t bother replying, switching the screen off and focusing on your work instead. A few moments later, the screen lights up again, only for it to be filled with notification after another. All from Annie bombarding you with questions as to whether you are planning to attend. 

It didn’t even take a minute to spare after the last notification before she shows up at your office. Without even knocking, she peeks her head in, grinning like a Cheshire cat, “So? Why aren’t you replying to any of my messages?”

“I’m working, Annie.” you replied, reading the same paragraph of the witness statement all over again. 

“I know but are you going? If you go, I go.” she announced. You look at her, pulling off your reading glasses and put it on the table, stretching your arms before replying, “I don’t think so. I’ll have to see if I could get this case sorted before then.”

“All you do is work, work and work.” she complained, rolling her eyes and leaning on your doorway with her arms crossed. With her strawberry blonde hair tied up into a ponytail while wearing a fashionable white designer suit, one would think she works in the fashion industry instead of law. 

“That’s because I’m slave for money.” you replied, your mind drifting to the mountains of student debts you have to pay. 

“I know but you deserve some time off. Your youth is ticking. Did you really want to die alone?”

“One party is not going to change that.”

“It won’t, but you won’t look so crinkly.”

“Ouch.” 

“Truth hurts, honey.” she said, laughing and you mock-laugh along with her. 

“Look, all I’m saying is...you deserve some time off. And you have to come with me because I don’t know many people here. It’s going to be awkward for me just sitting there and staring at people.” she said, even though you know full well that in a matter of seconds she’d have a new buddy. That’s just how approachable Annie is. 

“Fine, I’ll try to get most of this done by friday.”

“Yay!” she cheered, before walking out of the door, satisfied. 

Your thoughts then drift back to a week ago once she’s gone, as if on impulse. You didn’t know why it went back to that night, but it did. You have a feeling that this sudden invitation has something to do with what happened that night. Not with the police because you had already gave your statement and they had left without telling you anything, typical of them. But about something else. That guy. 

“Nonsense”, you muttered under your breath, before closing the window and continue on with your work. You may sound like an incurable workaholic, but sometimes, work does provide a necessary refuge from nonsense. 

Later in the evening, you decided to end your work early and call it a day at 6pm. For once this week, you could finally have dinner at home. Just the thought of it makes you giddy inside, how you had missed the domestic joy of eating something homemade and not out of a takeout box. 

You pack up your things, placing the necessary documents that you think you would need into your bag. Then swinging it onto your shoulder, you walk out of your office and waving at the receptionist who is actually packing her stuff. She waves back and you smile, pressing the elevator button before your eyes drift back to the fixed window. 

You remember how broken it had been that night. How shocked you were when you found him bleeding on the ground you are standing on. How clean it is right now. It is as if that night had never existed. And with how everyone had been behaving this week, it seems like they either had no idea, or they are so used to it that they did not bat an eye. You had expected them to turn into vultures the next day, eager for any gossip at all, but their reaction had surprised you to the point that you were almost convinced that that night had not exist. That somehow you were so tired, your mind had conjured up that image. It could happen to anyone. 

The elevator dinged, signaling its arrival at your floor. You walk inside. The door is about to close until a hand stops the two doors from meeting. You look up, only meet with a pair of familiar blue eyes. Your heart nearly stopped at how good the guy looks in that black designer suit accompanied by an older British-sounding man behind him. 

“You could’ve just wait for the next car, Master Dick.” said the older man in a posh British accent, holding a briefcase. 

“What’s wrong with this one? Time is of the essence, Alfred.” he replied, tapping on his silver watch before putting his hands into his pockets, standing in the middle of the elevator with his back to you like the powerful man that he is. 

The older man, Alfred, press a button to the basement where the car park is. You discretely move closer to the other corner, wanting to be invisible until you arrive at your floor. You hate elevator rides like these, the air is more awkward than with people squeezed inside the space like sardines.   
Once the elevator arrive at your floor, which seemed like forever, you rush out, your shoulder brushing his in that fleeting moment. You swore your pulse had never raced so fast, feeling his eyes on you as the elevator doors close.There is just something about it that seems so familiar. 

The journey back was quite tiring, with you nearly dozing off in the subway before it was announced that it had arrived in your station. You seemed to only gain a little bit of your energy back once the sight of your home greets your eyes. 

You close and lock the front door behind you before walking towards kitchen, dumping your bag on the couch on the way. Despite its lack of space, you do love your cozy one-bedroom apartment. Your neighbours seems to be okay as well, majority of them seemed to be living alone or with their partners. 

Your night seemed to go about normally. With you cooking dinner, eating it, downing your glass of wine while reading your case notes and getting ready for bed. But for some reason that night, you just couldn’t make yourself fall asleep even though it had usually been an easy thing to do. 

Tossing and turning, you end up back to where you started, staring at the familiar ceiling, restless. Suddenly, a chill crept up through your skin, causing you to shiver. You turn towards it, sitting up on your bed and flicking your table lamp on. 

You see your window, open so wide causing your curtains to fly. No wonder you had been freezing. You must’ve forgotten to close the window before dropping on your bed. 

You walk towards it and close it with a loud thud, locking it and as you are about to cover it with the curtain, you feel a pair of eyes on you. Your grip on the curtains tightening, feeling as if your heart is freezing, letting your adrenaline kick in. ‘Is it a ghost? Am I suddenly haunted?’, was the first thought that came into your mind. 

You turn, only to meet with those familiar blue orbs. He smiles, stepping into the light. Nightwing is right there, standing on the foot of your bed. “I don’t mean to frighten you.”, he cautioned but it didn’t work, because you just screamed the living shit out of him. 

Clutching your chest, willing for your breathing to regulate itself, you must’ve looked like your mother when you told her that you’re moving to one of the most dangerous cities in America. She wasn’t lying when she said that Gotham is one of the dangerous in America after all, if their vigilantes can just pop up into your bedroom in the dead of the night. 

“What are you doing here?” you managed to ask amidst all the confusion. 

Nightwing looks around your room, scratching his head as if he is thinking of a valid reason as well, before confessing, “I just want to thank you. You know, for saving my life last time.”

“I don’t really do much but you’re welcome?”

“Sorry for barging in like this, I just don’t know how to contact you and I don’t wanna seem like an asshole…”

“Noted. Forgiven. You do know that normally people would just leave a cheque, flower baskets or drop by their house with a fruitcake for saving their lives, right?”

“I know that, but I...don’t consider myself normal, as you can see.” he replied, gesturing to his outfit, smirking. 

“Right, I forgot that normal people don’t usually dress up in latex and climb roofs at night.” 

“It’s not...nevermind. Anyway, I’m sorry again for barging in. I just don’t know how I could thank you for that night. And for keeping it a secret.”

“How did no one find out about the crashed window? How did no one in the office talk about it?”

“You must not be from Gotham, then.”

“No, I’m not.”

“The people in Gotham are used to seeing these kind of things. Unless it threatens their life, they don’t usually care.”

You nod in understanding, failing to sense that he had closed the distance between you to the point your toes nearly touch. You swallow a lump in your throat, glancing at him nervously, your feet rooted at the ground. All your instincts are telling you to move closer but your brain is hesitating, waiting to see what is he going to do. 

“You’re different.“

“All because I don’t come from here?” you wondered out loud. 

“No, there is something about you that’s different.” he said, but you could only reply him with silence, because you didn’t even know how to respond to that. It’s true that you’re different, but surely not as different as to the point you would attract the curiosity of one of Gotham’s most prided vigilante. 

“H-how’s your injury?” you asked, trying to distract yourself from the sudden heat rising in the room. Or was it from you?

“It had mostly healed. Though I’ll probably earn a scar.”

“Oh…” you replied, the memory of you slapping him a few times across the face like a jilted lover. You immediately wince at the memory, your index finger pointing to your cheek, “Sorry about the slapping.”

“It’s fine, I understand why you did it. Besides, it’s not my first time to be slapped by a beautiful woman.” he flashed that disgustingly flirtatious smile at you, showing off his dimples. But before you could give him a snarky reply, a glaring white light shines through your window, causing you turn back to see what it was. 

“I think I have to leave.” he said, suddenly serious and walking towards your window. You stare at him, “Don’t you want to use the door instead? Or the fire escape?”

“The window’s fine.” he replied, smiling and waving at you before disappearing. 

You run towards it, seeing him already climbing to the roof of the building across from yours. The way his body move, you had never seen something so graceful and strong at the same time. You couldn’t tear your eyes away from him, not until he disappears from your view as he reached the roof of the building. 

And just like that, it felt like you had just fallen from the sky, crash-landing back to reality. Why had all your encounters with him feel like a dream? As if he is some figment of your imagination? How had he somehow show up in your life whenever you feel lost, like some knight in shining armor? You hate that he has the power over you, your mind. And the worst part? You didn’t even know him in real life. 

You feel yourself lowering to the ground, leaning your head against the window as you wonder what the hell had gone wrong with your life, to the point you are somehow pulled into this emotional mess. How could you suddenly develop a crush on a masked, latex-wearing man?


End file.
